


Les beaux arts

by legendofthefireemblem



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Combeferre sucks at the arts, Gen, Supposed to be canon era but idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:12:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofthefireemblem/pseuds/legendofthefireemblem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre needs a hobby. Luckily for him, the arts is readily available.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Les beaux arts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sashadechagny (Lightning_St0rm)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightning_St0rm/gifts).



> As a prompt from [theladysasha](http://theladysasha.tumblr.com/post/98678178210/alas-those-moments-when-i-wish-i-was-able-to-draw)
>
>> Canon-era, Enjolras & Combeferre, playing the piano at dawn.

Combeferre was irritated. 

It wasn't that he couldn't apply himself. In fact, many of his teachers had often told him the contrary. Compliments on his dedication to the project and application of previous knowledge in order to complete the task were common. And yet Combeferre was unable to do that with the arts. 

He had once tried to write poetry. 

Combeferre had researched techniques, theories and scoured famous works of poetry for examples. He spent weeks and weeks drafting, carefully editing each sentence - each word - until he was positive that every single stanza conveyed exactly what he wanted it to. 

After a month of hard labour, he showed it to Jehan. 

Jehan promptly glanced over it and left, taking the poem with him. 

Combeferre never saw it again. (Jehan's apartment, however, smelt like smoke the next time he came over.)

He then decided to try his hand at art. 

Combeferre didn't want to bother Feuilly by watching him work - and he wasn't too sure if a drunk Grantaire would be a good teacher - so he went to art galleries and exhibits to study the pieces for an extensive amount of time. After he felt like he had observed enough works of art, he brought home a book from the library. Turning the page to a famous work of art, he began his attempt to sketch it. 

After 2 days of correcting mistakes on his sketch, Courfeyrac finally found out what he had been up to this whole time. 

"Is that supposed to be the Mona Lisa?" Questioned Courfeyrac incredulously. Combeferre did not answer, silently hoping that Courfeyrac would leave the matter alone. Then again, it was Courfeyrac he was asking this of. And so, Courfeyrac decided to get a better glimpse of the portrait before bursting out into peals of laughter. "Even I know that the Mona Lisa doesn't have thick eyebrows!" 

Combeferre glared at Courfeyrac, hiding his embarrassment of his 'amateurish' drawing. He pushed his glasses further up his nose, as if the lenses would magnify the intensity of his glare. 

"I'm keeping this," chuckled Courfeyrac. "For the collection." 

"A collection of what?" 

"Enjolras!" Exclaimed Combeferre. He hadn't expected his roommate to come back so soon from his research at the library. 

"A collection of embarrassing things that Combefere has done throughout his whole life." 

"What?!" 

"Calm down 'ferre," snickered Courfeyrac. "No one else has seen it other than me - although that may change in the future." Combeferre sighed. No matter what, Courfeyrac would never change. The immaturity of the soul of the group would always be there. 

"Is that supposed to be the Mona Lisa?" Asked Enjolras. 

Combeferre facepalmed.

After that catastrophe, Combeferre decided to try out music. 

Asking Jehan to teach him how to play was out of the question. He wasn't even sure what instrument he wanted to learn. As Combeferre lay in his bed, he stared at his ceiling. All of a sudden, it came to him like soft notes played on a piano. 

He sat up. That was the sound of a piano. In his and Enjolras' apartment. Since when did Enjolras have a piano?

Curious, Combeferre slid out of bed and walked over to Enjolras' bedroom, not even bothering to knock on the door before opening it. Before him was a sight he had never imagined: Enjolras hunched in front of an upright piano. 

"You play the piano?" How had he never known that about Enjolras? 

"Yeah." Replied Enjolras quietly. "I learnt when I was little. Had a tutor and everything."

"And you always played at night?" 

Enjolras nodded. "You're always tired from all the work in university. I didn't want to interrupt your sleep."

What came out of Combeferre's mouth next surprised even Combeferre himself: "Teach me."

The duo stayed up until dawn, Enjolras showing Combeferre the techniques of piano playing while teaching him a simple song. When the sun finally shone on Paris, Combeferre was finally able to play the song by himself along with being able to identify the notes and techniques that were in it. 

As they watched the sun rise, Combeferre smiled softly to himself. So this is what the arts felt like.


End file.
